


The Long Way Home

by Vracs



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/F, Post Apocalypse, Roadtrip Fic, Romance, all of the fluff, background mallory and coco, foxxay - Freeform, low angst, madison is still 100 percent full asshole, queenie couldn't make it y'all sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2019-11-26 11:36:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18180095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vracs/pseuds/Vracs
Summary: A road-trip down the West Coast is exactly what Misty and Cordelia need to finally get together.





	1. How far do I have to go to get to you

It only takes a minute to transmutate them all to San Francisco, to the hotel just a couple of blocks down from the conference hall. Much to everyone’s amazement, Cordelia had somehow managed to wrangle the multi-bedroom penthouse suite – though she’ll never admit to casually name dropping herself whilst making it clear that her council would also be in attendance.

Madison wastes no time raiding the mini bar, _For the "jetlag" – who the fuck chooses to transmutate at the ass-crack of dawn?_ while Kyle helps with their collective baggage and Coco and Mallory explore the adjoining rooms.

Misty plants herself on the semi-circular sofa alongside Zoe and gives a low whistle.

“This place is somethin’ else,” her eyes widen as they run over the flat screen TV, the breath-taking night view of the city from the panorama windows, the plush cream carpet and state of the art Hi-Fi system – something she’ll definitely be making good use of later.

“This place is crazy,” Zoe nods. She kicks her shoes off and tucks her feet under her, tilting back against the headrest to close her eyes. “I’m wiped.”

Misty hums her agreement. She watches Cordelia emerge from the bedroom, already wrapped in a bathrobe, face free of make-up and slippers on her feet. Misty’s heart skips. For all the months they’d spent living under the same roof, Misty doesn’t think she’s ever seen Cordelia so comfortable in her own skin. Granted, there had been long, tearful nights, particularly in the days upon Misty’s return, when she'd wake up screaming only to find Cordelia already by her bedside, worried, sleepy eyes staring back at her, and later, protective arms around her and a gentle voice in her ear. And Cordelia had always been clad in pyjamas, though Misty can't say she'd ever been in the right state of mind to appreciate it.

She thinks she could get used to the domestic feeling it sparks inside her.

Before she can think on it some more, they’re all summoned to the communal area to decide on bedrooms. There are four doubles and a twin  - Kyle, by default, gets his own room. As does Madison, because, _well_.

Mallory and Coco immediately agree to share as Coco’s been desperate to try a new skin-care regime and it’ll give them a chance to experiment with face and hair masks in the privacy of their own space, well away from Madison’s jibing words.

That leaves Misty and Zoe, who look sheepishly at each other.

“Guess we’re takin’ the twin beds.”

Zoe nods, glancing over at Kyle’s downcast face. “Unless…”

Kyle perks up at the sound of Zoe’s voice and shuffles awkwardly by the bar, scratching at the back of his neck in his attempt to remain cool.

“Kyle?”

“Oh – uh – “ he laughs, nervous. “The twin? Sure – yeah. We can take the twin.” His face turns red as Zoe scoots off the sofa and joins him.

“Is that okay? We don’t have to.”

“No – I want to. That sounds good.” His Converse scuff against the floor and Madison watches with disgust as she swigs straight from a miniature bottle of Pinot.

“Choke me,” she scoffs, grabbing the handle of her suitcase by the door and carting it off to her room.

Misty looks at Cordelia, recognizing the softness in her eyes. It doesn’t leave her, even as Cordelia announces, “It’s settled. Everyone to bed – we have a long day ahead of us and I expect each and every one of you down for breakfast by seven.”

The group gradually disperses, leaving Misty and Cordelia alone by the sofa.

“Are you okay?” Cordelia says gently as she sits, noting the fatigue on Misty’s face, the slump in her shoulders. She hopes tonight won’t be like the others – perhaps a change in scenery will give Misty the opportunity to recuperate, and hopefully get the first good night’s rest in a long time.

Slowly, she reaches up to comb Misty’s hair out of her eyes, warming at the way Misty tilts her head into the touch, eyes fluttering closed.

“Tired.”

Cordelia savours the gentle moment for a little longer, then pulls Misty to stand and slowly walks her to her room.

“Remember, I’m just next door if you need anything.”

Misty lingers.

It feels a lot like the end of a date. Only she’d always pictured walking Cordelia back to _her_ door. She looks at her one more time and finds warm, dark eyes and a patient smile waiting for her. She moves into the hug first, cradling Cordelia’s body against her own as they prop each other up to keep from swaying with exhaustion. Cordelia is warm and pliant in her arms, and smells like clean soap. It makes Misty feel sleepy.

When they part, she whispers _goodnight_ and Cordelia watches the door click shut behind her. She makes quick work of getting ready for bed, settling herself into the nest of pillows even as her heart thumps in her chest and her mind whirrs.

She tries to go over the speech she is making tomorrow at the conference. It’s the first international meeting of witches ahead of the new academic year in September and Cordelia looks forward to making a good first impression on the new, young attendees and her much more experienced seniors.

But each time she rehearses the words, thoughts of Misty filter through her foggy consciousness. She stares at the wall that separates them and tries to picture Misty in her bed, comfortable, unafraid, peaceful. For a moment, she wishes there were no barriers between them, then squeezes her eyes shut and rolls onto her side, hoping to catch a few restless hours before sun-up.

 

/

 

It’s just after eight on a sweltering Saturday morning. There is not a single cloud in the sky. And yet, they all manage to sit in the front row of the large auditorium, watching as Cordelia commands the podium and holds the welcome speech for the first Women’s Conference for the Gifted and Magically Inclined.

Misty glances over her shoulder at the vast expanse of the lecture hall. Beneath the dim lights, every seat is filled, and eager eyes lock onto Cordelia as she speaks with perfect clarity and passion. There are hundreds of women here of all ages, from academies across the world. The collective buzz in the theatre makes Misty’s heart hammer with excitement, most of all because Cordelia had, with the help of Myrtle, single-handedly managed to organise this event without so much as batting an eyelid.

When she leans forward, she notices that even Madison in the aisle seat, opts to listen to Cordelia instead of fixating on her phone. Zoe, Kyle and Coco fill the other spaces and Mallory sits next to her, squeezing her hand the entire time.

“She’s good, isn’t she?” Mallory whispers.

She nods with a surge of pride. Cordelia owns the stage like she’s done it a million times. Her long skirt hovers just above the sharp point of her heels and her silk blouse sits neatly tucked into the hem, buttons clasped all the way to her neck.

Misty smiles to herself, knowing she’d quite happily sit and listen for hours. Teaching comes so naturally to Cordelia – it’s wonderfully obvious just how much she loves it, from the radiant smile on her face to the way she gestures with her hands, at times towards the audience and often up at the giant digital screen above her.

The day will consist of mostly speakers in the morning – critically-acclaimed leaders in various fields; those who have pioneered the pillars of witchcraft: descensum, pyrokinesis and herbalism – the latter of which Misty is beyond excited to attend, especially as Cordelia had promised to come along with her.

The afternoon and late evening are scheduled for workshops and interactive sessions. Cordelia opens the floor for questions, of which there are many, and Misty watches Madison and Zoe snap countless photos of her on their phones as swarms of women queue towards the stage to get a chance to meet her and ask her about the nascent origins of the conference.

Misty leans over Coco’s lap and _pssts_ at the girls.

“What are y’all doing?”

Zoe grins, swivelling her phone to reveal a waving Queenie on her screen.

“What’s up girl?” she drawls.

Misty waves back, laughing. “Just watchin’ our Supreme kick butt."

Queenie nods enthusiastically, turning her own phone towards her classroom where the youngest witches of the Academy sit – some of them barely teenagers. “I’ve been streamin’ y’all instead of doin’ lessons. Since y’all assholes couldn’t take us. Don’t snitch on me.”

They FaceTime with Queenie until coffee break, when Cordelia comes to meet them and is immediately flanked by Coco and Zoe on each side, both of whom can’t help singing her praises. 

“You were amazing,” Zoe tells her as Coco grins, complimenting Cordelia’s _stage presence_ and _oh my God are those Louboutins?_ and _let’s take a photo_ which Madison is first to accommodate, gathering the group for a quick selfie before posting online. Even Queenie pipes up in her miniature form to congratulate Cordelia, who blushes and swells with happiness at the thought of her younger students tuning in.

Kyle busies himself making drinks for everyone, while Mallory and Misty look on at their council and can’t help but feel that they’ve finally created one big, dysfunctional, happy family. 

It’s not until they’ve all had a quick coffee that Madison finally looks through a borrowed program to realise the closing talks end just after nine. She drags Cordelia over to the ladies’ toilets and scoffs.

“What the fuck?”

Cordelia winces, placing a firm hand on Madison’s shoulder, “Hey, language. There are younger members here.”

“Oh, _bite_ me. Nine? Are you for real? We’re supposed to stay here until _nine_?”

Coming from Madison, Cordelia wasn’t sure what else to expect. Whilst planning the timetable in the spring, she had realised that the first day could potentially end up a little too long and somewhat overwhelming. So, she’d purposefully planned the Sunday to end before lunch, enabling time for those who wished to enjoy the sights of San Francisco or plan practical journeys home if transmutation was't an option.

Nevertheless, she pacifies Madison with a soft nod and gently asks her, “Well, what else did you have in mind?”

As it turns out, everyone except for Misty had been looking forward to making a trip across to Alcatraz, hoping to get there in time for the last admission of the day. Part of Cordelia had hoped that at least Mallory might hang back to help oversee the workshops, though realistically, if she were a twenty-something year old, she too would have preferred to take the more touristy route. With quiet approval, she watches Kyle and Zoe give her apologetic smiles whilst Coco hugs her one last time, whispers more words of encouragement and tugs on Mallory’s hand to lead them outside. 

She turns breathlessly to see Misty smiling at her. The sight of her makes everything a little lighter.

“Hi.”

“Hey there,” Misty steps towards her, offering her a small teacup on a saucer and a pre-packaged quinoa salad.

“Thank you,” she guides them to some empty chairs, grateful that no one else approaches them as they settle down to eat. During her talk, she’d noticed Misty, amongst the rest of her council, sitting centre stage with a gloriously big smile on her face. Misty had given her numerous sporadic thumbs up, and this alone had been enough to fill Cordelia with confidence and absolutely no qualms about what to say next. She reaches over for Misty’s hand, hoping a squeeze will communicate just how much she appreciates it all.

“D’you sleep alright last night darlin'?”

“A little. I couldn’t turn my mind off.”

“Mine too. Too tired to unwind. Kept thinkin’ ‘bout today and worryin’ ‘bout you.”

Cordelia frowns. “About me? Why?”

The tiny shrug Misty gives her is sweetness personified. “Didn’t want you stayin’ up, panickin’ ‘bout your speech.”

“Actually,” she whispers tentatively, “I was worried about you. In case you had another nightmare.”

“Prob’ly would’ve come to you, like always.”

The confession brings a bittersweet heaviness to Cordelia’s chest and she leans forward in her chair. “Thank you for keeping me company.”

“Are you kiddin’? _Always_ ,” Misty says around a mouthful of cookie, and then, “You were incredible. I ain’t got the words to describe it but – I ain’t ever seen you like that ‘n you looked so happy up there, you really belong up there, teachin’ and inspirin’.”

Cordelia’s eyes widen and her cheeks flush at the compliment. She dips her head to focus on her meal as Misty tucks hair behind her ear so she can see her food better. “I was very nervous.”

The confession comes as a complete shock and Misty sputters. “Why the heck would you be nervous?” 

“I guess – I’ve never done anything like this before. I didn’t think I could? My mother used to sometimes take me to things like this – smaller things – and I always felt as if I stuck out like a sore thumb.” The salad feels dry against her throat as memories of Fiona and her admonitions flood her, the thought alone enough to leave a gaping hole of inadequacy in the pit of her stomach. She wishes Fiona could see her now. She wonders if her mother would be proud, knowing deep down that seething jealousy or at best, disregard, would probably take the front seat.

“For all its worth, I reckon you’re the best leader we’re ever gon’ get.”

Misty’s earnestness is all too familiar, and Cordelia scoots her chair closer, catching the glint in Misty’s eye. For the first time, she notices that Misty must have spent a lot of time getting ready that morning – she wears a smart brown linen jumpsuit with sleeves that end just below her biceps, and some black Birkenstocks that Zoe must have lent her but that completely suit her style. She is free of jewellery aside from a large turquoise ring on her index finger and an ankle bracelet. Cordelia elbows her playfully and leans in. “You’re biased.”

“’Course. I’m always biased when it comes to you.”

The moment passes, heavy between them. Cordelia wants to reach out and take Misty’s fingers in her own again, thankful for the teacup and salad box otherwise occupying her hands. After a beat, she says, “You look wonderful.”

“’s all Zoe. I ain’t got the first clue ‘bout what people wear to somethin’ like this.”

“It’s perfect.” Cordelia wants to add that she thinks the earthy browns really compliment Misty’s skin tone; that her hair looks so pretty, curled and sun-kissed already; that she really loves the way Misty smells, of eucalyptus and the beach, even though they’ve not yet had a chance to go down to the coast. Instead, she finishes her salad and smooths down her skirt as she stands. “Thank you for staying with me. It means more to me than anything. I know there are so many other, more fun things to be doing.” She reaches a hand to pull Misty up.

“Ain’t nowhere else I’d rather be.”

With that, the two make their way into the bustle of the chattering crowd, ready for the afternoon to begin.

 

/

 

Cordelia sighs as she rids herself of her heels and tosses them by the mini fridge, opening it to check whether Madison had thought to leave them anything.

Relieved to find a bottle of rosé, she unscrews the top and pours two glasses. The first cold sip has her eyes fluttering shut, tension easing from her shoulders with each sweet taste. She takes another, then another, until she feels her head swim a little and realises, she hasn’t eaten since lunch.

She's thankful when she hears Misty ordering pizza from the other room, and uses the opportunity to quickly change out of her outfit and into something more comfortable.

By the time she’s ready, Misty’s already sprawled on the sofa in front of the flat screen and turns to catch her eye excitedly.

“Y’alright darlin’?”

Cordelia nods, settling herself on an adjacent cushion after placing their two drinks on the glass coffee stand. Misty’s feet are perched there, arm splayed out over the back of the sofa so when Cordelia relaxes, Misty’s arm slips around her shoulders instead.

“C'mere,” she whispers, coaxing Cordelia further into her side. With the air-con on full blast, Cordelia’s grateful for the body warmth and the blanket Misty throws over their legs. Their toes peek out on the other side and Misty bumps them together, laughing when Cordelia tries to scoot her foot away. “ _Quit misbehavin’_.”

Cordelia laughs. “What are we watching?”

“Anythin’. It’s Nat Geo – I jus’ like the animals,” Misty grins when she admits this, not that it comes as a surprise to Cordelia whose main reason for liking Misty so much is her love of all things living, but especially wildlife and how she glows at the mention of it.

She rests her head on Misty’s shoulder and closes her eyes. She can feel Misty’s heartbeat in her ear as it hums fast and steady beneath her, soothing away her stress completely.

And even though she doesn’t look at the screen, choosing instead to focus on the gentle magic of Misty's proximity, she says, “Sounds perfect.”

Misty tries to keep her breathing steady. Over the crown of Cordelia’s head, she struggles to follow David Attenborough’s narration. It’s muffled and distant, like swimming through water. Cordelia’s soft skin rests against her own, the cosy sensation and the scent of her hair taking precedence.

When Cordelia trails fingertips over the inside of her wrist, Misty shivers pleasantly.

She tilts to press her cheek against the top of Cordelia’s head, and they sit in silence for a long time, palm to palm, only briefly interrupted when Cordelia reaches for their drinks and clinks their glasses together.

“Cheers.”

“To you, Delia,” Misty whispers, eyeing her carefully over the pristine rim, a small smile on her face just before she takes a sip, “for bein’ an inspiration.”

Cordelia shakes her head incredulously, bottom lip pinned between her teeth.

“No - To you. For always being right beside me, whenever I need you. Even before this. Even with Alcatraz on the cards.”

They laugh.

“To us then, darlin’. Alcatraz ain’t got nothin’ on you.”

They clink again, grinning at each other as the knock at the door signals the arrival of their pizzas.

Misty’s already two thirds deep into a margherita by the time the rest of the group arrive, throwing their bags in a pile by the door and thus putting an end to their peaceful evening as they chatter and clamour over the remaining food.

“And the tiny-ass cells? Fuck that shit!” Madison rolls her eyes as she drops onto an ottoman tiredly, opening her photos to show Misty and Cordelia. “I mean, _look_ at this?”

“It’s jail, not the Marriott,” Coco laughs, handing a slice to Mallory who smiles at her and all but sits in her lap.

“I’ve been to jail and that’s _not_ what it looks like.”

 “It was pretty awesome. You guys should’ve come. The view from the island was sick…”

“Shame about the fog,” Zoe joins Kyle by the bar. She leans into him to snag a quick sip from his bottle of beer. “Kyle had his heart set on seeing the Golden Gate bridge.”

Madison’s lit cigarette dangles from her mouth as she says, “You _do_ know you can Google pictures of that shit, right?”

“Zoe managed to get some amazing photos.”

Coco nods at Mallory, “Oh, _yeah. Amazing_. The sepia ones? _Babe_. Put that in the Louvre, seriously.”

Cordelia and Misty watch the hectic scene unfold from the sofa, arms pressed flush and hands still locked together beneath the blanket. They both fill with warmth at Zoe’s beautiful pictures, the way she sees the world through a quiet but thoughtful lens. She’d really managed to capture the stark desolation of the place. Misty tells her so; tells her she’d love to learn how to take photographs, if Zoe wouldn’t mind taking some time to show her, while Cordelia exchanges glances with Coco who pointedly stares at the way her feet are inter-crossed with Misty’s.

She’s relieved when Coco lets it rest and instead announces to the group: “We’re sleeping in tomorrow. You two can network, but Madison thought we could head to Napa for the day and I am _not_ about to miss out on my Sauv Blanc.”

“We could meet you for lunch?”

Misty hums her approval. The idea of spending the afternoon in a quiet vineyard underneath the August sun means she might have some more time to spend with Cordelia, and she couldn’t be happier about it.

“I’d like that.”

They all agree on a meeting spot before dispersing to their rooms to get ready for bed.

Misty’s surprised when Cordelia stays beside her.

“Ain’t you headin’ to sleep?”

Cordelia’s eyes hang heavy but her smile stays bright, and she sits happily at Misty’s side, gently touching a lock of Misty’s hair, right down to the tip.

“Not yet.”

“Me either,” Misty catches Cordelia’s hand and places a palm against her own cheek. The endearing way she tilts into the touch yet again is something Cordelia knows she’ll never grow tired of. Tentatively, she glances down at her lap and motions for Misty to lay her head across it, overcome with affection when Misty does, like a puppy, looking up at her with soft blue eyes as she moves her fingers into blonde hair and begins massaging along her scalp.

Each time she thumbs along Misty’s temples, she’s rewarded with quiet, sleepy hums of pleasure. The neon numbers on the sound system blink midnight but neither of them notice.


	2. Don't bring me bad news

The road trip officially begins Sunday mid-afternoon, when Misty and Cordelia pack a quick day bag, change clothes at the hotel and transmutate themselves to Napa to join the rest of the group.

By the time they get there, Madison and Kyle are already wobbly on their feet and Zoe tries very hard to keep them on a somewhat tight leash.

As soon as she spots them, Coco makes a beeline for Cordelia, hijacking her with an excited hand to her waist. She’s got her heart set on taking a tour of the nearest vineyard and hopes it’ll give Mallory and Misty enough time to wonder off and find a good spot for late lunch.

“ _So?_ ”

“So.” Cordelia looks on, confused, “Thoughts on the conference?”

Coco pushes her sunglasses onto her head and raises an eyebrow, stopping in front of Cordelia with crossed arms. “Cut the crap.”

“I’m sorry?”

The way Coco looks at her makes Cordelia wish she could just disappear or chance her luck with Concilium, but Coco’s eyes quickly turn soft and something in her stomach knots.

“ _Cords_.”

Cordelia pouts, groaning when Coco moves into her side and links their arms, falling in step with her as they walk between rows of vines, the high sun beating down on them.

“Do I have to get you drunk first?”

“No,” Cordelia says softly. She looks straight ahead to avoid Coco’s piercing eyes.

“Okay, then - how long have you two been playing this charade?”

“It isn’t one.”

The notion that someone could think her feelings for Misty are anything but second nature, weighs heavy on Cordelia’s shoulders and her throat clogs – if only Coco knew the half of it. Coco must sense this because her arm tightens around her elbow and she tugs her closer.

“What would you call it?”

She has no idea.

Misty’s return brought a happiness with her that Cordelia hadn’t felt in four years. The wide, gaping hole inside her had started to heal, and with it, she’d begun to feel a sense of normalcy, a warmth deep within her that had grown stronger with each passing day. Simply having Misty as a constant in her life made it easier to sleep, to eat, to enjoy the things she hadn’t realised she’d missed.

Teaching felt better. She felt a new zest for it, knowing Misty was waiting for her at the end of the working day. She fell in love with botany again, the thick, humid fog of the greenhouse now her favourite smell, when it used to bring pain and sleepless nights.

The moments she spent with Misty – those were what she looked forward to the most. Simply sharing breakfast with her or taking a walk down by the swamp, spending late nights swapping mugs of tea and childhood stories, soothed Cordelia when nothing else would. And the way Misty looked at her, almost all the time, sent a thrumming, helpless ache through her very bones - Cordelia usually had no clue what to do with herself, her magic helpless and burbling in erratic waves around her.

She shakes her head to clear her thoughts.

“It’s complicated.”

Coco hums. “Sure.” They walk onwards until the sound of the others drowns out. “Or maybe it isn’t.”

Cordelia’s brow crinkles. “We’re friends. First and foremost.”

Coco doesn’t argue. Cordelia and Misty share a bond that she had only seen once before – between her parents. And like her parents, Misty and Cordelia have a blatant, profound love, one that Coco would die to see flourish, even if that meant a gentle push from her in the right direction. When they find a bench, she pulls Cordelia down and turns to face her.

“I totally get it, babe. You’ve both had a tough year. I can’t _begin_ to imagine what that must have been like – having her just out of your reach, again and again. I saw what it did to you. I saw the shit you went through, and I couldn’t find the right words – I _knew_ no matter what I said, it wouldn’t take the hurt away and I hoped every night that you’d get her back, I really did. Watching your heart break - It was the _worst._ Cords, you’re my _best_ friend.”

Cordelia looks away, vision foggy as her eyes swim. She blinks fast to clear them but one falls onto her lap anyway, and then another before she can swipe at her face.

“Hey,” Coco takes her cheeks, smudging the tears herself, whilst anchoring Cordelia between her palms. “She’s back for good. There’s no need to cry anymore. Cordelia - I really _do_ think you should tell her.”

“Tell her what?”

Coco laughs. “Honey, listen. If she could? Misty would give you the world, figuratively _and_ literally. That woman is batshit crazy about you and it blows my mind that you can’t see it.”

She lets her glasses slide back over her face and smacks Cordelia on the thigh. “Now get that beautiful ass in gear. I want to get drunk.”

And with that, she pulls Cordelia up and glances at her phone, pointing them the right way when she reads Madison’s drop pin on her map.

They bump into Misty and Mallory first. The two are engaged in an intense conversation that Cordelia’s reluctant to interrupt. She hangs back for a second, trying to read the exchange between them even as Coco rolls her eyes beside her and whispers, _Jesus, Cords. Get a clue._

Cordelia doesn’t bite. She waits patiently for a natural lull before approaching, gently tapping Misty on the shoulder and filling with guilt when Misty jolts and turns to her with panicked eyes.

“Oh! Hi!”

Mallory scoots to Coco’s side and nudges her. “Where did you guys go?”

“For a walk,” Coco says flatly, then follows up with a wink at Mallory that Cordelia catches, but doesn’t mention.

“We were just talking about - ”

“Lunch,” Misty laughs, “We were talkin’ ‘bout lunch. Y’all hungry? I’m starvin’!”

“You’re always starving,” Mallory shakes her head, then tilts into Coco and links their arms together, “We were talking about -”

“I _know._ ”

“ _Oh._ ” Mallory’s eyes go wide as she cottons on. She purses her lips together, sucking them over her teeth in her attempt to keep quiet. She chances a quick look at Cordelia who’s twisting a piece of Misty’s hair around her finger and making her laugh. The two of them look so natural, Misty’s hands coming to rest on Cordelia’s forearms, and Mallory blushes, scooting her fingers against the inside of Coco’s wrist.

Coco smirks. “Think they’ll notice if we leave?”

“Only one way to find out,” Mallory says softly, grateful when Coco squeezes her closer and guides them away to the rest of the group.

 

/

 

They’re all a little worse for wear by the time the food comes. Mallory had put her powers to good use in order to coerce the local sommelier into bringing them their largest spread and a couple of bottles of local white.

She looks proudly at her handiwork as the rest of them sprawl on a picnic blanket and attempt to share out the food.

Misty lies sated and sleepy on her back at the fringes of the group.

She and Mallory had both snuck a sandwich and a glass of Chardonnay before the troops had gathered, and she closes her eyes now in total satisfaction, feeling the warm late afternoon light on her face as the voices of her friends all blend into one.

Cordelia sits by her side. Occasionally, Misty will open her eyes to look up at her and watch her hair turn to gold, earrings glinting with the movement of the sun across the horizon, cheeks and bared shoulders gradually flooding pink.

When Cordelia offers, Misty takes the slices of brie and grapes she’s handed, grinning at Cordelia’s tipsy giggles the minute Coco starts telling them all about that one time in college, when she accidentally doubled as a waitress/stripper – _only for a week, credit debt is a bitch!_ – and Madison’s jaw drops, because, _wait, I’m not the only one who did that shit?_

Even watching Kyle and Zoe fumble clumsily around their feelings seems more tolerable because Cordelia keeps looking at her in that soft way of hers, and Misty wishes, for the dozenth time that day, that she could whisk them away for a quiet moment or two.

It finally happens when Madison, Mallory and Coco start comparing little black books – though Mallory does a lot of polite listening and looking longingly at Coco who does her best to dodge questions from Madison and put a damper on her past conquests.

Misty seizes the opportunity and signals to Cordelia, who quickly catches on. She dusts off her dress and allows herself to be led away, back down the hilly slope and into the countryside.

“Some peace ‘n quiet,” Misty sighs happily, twirling around to see Cordelia frowning up at the sky. She’d forgotten to take her sunglasses. The soft lines at the corners of her eyes are worldly and beautiful and Misty steps to admire them a little closer, bumping into her side.

“ _Oof_ , my bad! Reckon I had one too many!”

Cordelia steadies her with a firm hand on her bicep, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, “But it _was_ wonderful.”

“Feelin’ tipsy?” she teases. This time, she doesn’t hesitate to reach out and boldly take Cordelia’s hand in her own, swinging it back and forth ever so slightly as they fall in step.

“A little,” Cordelia smiles, “are you?”

Misty gives her a devilish grin and something in Cordelia sparks. She doesn’t get a chance to question Misty further before she’s swept up and dropped on a pier, dizzy with whiplash as Misty keeps a tight hold on her hand. _When did Misty learn to transmutate?_

“ _Mist_.”

“Come on, darlin’,” she tells her without explanation; leaves her with no choice but to follow, and quick, because Misty’s racing them across the shadowy floorboards and past food stalls and tourists and Cordelia shouts _where are we going?_ but only gets a laugh from Misty who brims with childish excitement as she weaves them in and out of the crowds.

They don’t stop until they reach the edge of the amusement park, right by the water where the wind blows strong and steady and the sun casts ambers across the sky.

Cordelia smells them before she sees them – a pod of glistening sea lions bathing together, the sheer number of them casting a spectrum of blacks and browns across Cordelia’s line of vision.

 _Of course_ Misty would bring her here.

Laughter erupts from her like bubbles and Misty whips around to point.

“D’you see ‘em?”

“I see them,” she shakes her head, taken by the way Misty leans over the barrier to stare longingly at her sea friends.

“Ain’t they sweet? Look at that one over there!” she squeals, signalling to a small baby seal nestled into the soft pouch of her mother’s belly.

Cordelia moves next to Misty to rest against her.

“They sure are something.”

“And that one, look,” Misty nods to a sea lion closest to them as it lifts its curious head to greet them. “Oh my. I ain’t seen somethin’ this amazin’ in a long while.”

Cordelia turns to watch Misty’s profile take it all in. She’s lit by the approaching sunset and her blue eyes shine with wonder, even as her smile falls. “I hope they ain’t bein’ abused by them tourists. Reckon they’re free to swim ‘round?”

“Absolutely. It’s open water. They seem well taken care of to me.” She singles out a guard who gently tosses mackerel to the hungry inhabitants of Pier 39. “How do you know about this place?”

“Mallory showed ‘em to me on the internet. She said I should take you here, to get clam chowder.”

“She did?”

“Uh-huh.”

“She didn’t want to come along?”

Misty sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and shakes her head no.

Cordelia smiles at her sympathetically, reaching to place a tender hand on Misty’s shoulder where the sleeve of her top has ridden up. She strokes the skin there, feeling Misty shiver as the wind picks up.

They make their way silently to Boudin for an early dinner. Cordelia checks in with Coco to let her know their whereabouts and not to expect them back at the hotel until later.

The only reply she gets is a wink and some love hearts.

They take plenty of time over their meal, sobering slowly with each cosy bite.

Misty has never had clam chowder and though she likes it, she thinks she enjoys watching Cordelia eat it more. Cordelia eats with refined dignity, which is more than she can say for herself. She follows the muscles in Cordelia’s jaw and neck as they flicker, lips pursed sweetly in concentration, humming every now and then to let Misty know that this was most definitely a good choice.

Her eyes fall to Cordelia’s hands and she stares for a long time; thinks about how many times she’d held them between her own, felt them in her hair and trailing down her back; counts the ways she’d kissed between the knuckles, in gratitude, concern or sometimes just because.

When Cordelia finishes, Misty takes care of the bill – _this one’s on me_ – and opens the bakery door for her, the bell dinging behind them as they link into each other.

“Where to next, Miss Day?”

“Well, _Miss_ Cordelia,” she laughs, straightening her back playfully and pointing her chin up in a show of chivalry, “what d’you reckon? Too late for a walk?”

The sky is already inky dark, settling a chill across the now quiet pier. A few couples pass them by. Misty turns to Cordelia to shelter her from the breeze.

“I’d love to.”

She wishes she’d had the foresight to bring a shawl or a light jacket for Cordelia to wear. Goosebumps prickle across her skin and Misty feels guilty for making them stay out late. But Cordelia sticks close to her side, leaning into her to keep the wind from whipping hair across her face, and Misty finds herself forgetting all about the weather each time she tilts her head to speak into Cordelia’s ear over the sound of the crashing waves.

For the first time in a long time, they talk about the Coven and its expansion over recent months. A lot of it had to do, of course, with Cordelia and her prowess for leadership, but also with the capabilities of her council, their family and the love that had blossomed from it.

Misty had never imagined that she’d be a part of something like this. Amongst the council, she’d forged sisterhood and friendship.

And in Cordelia, she’d found a teacher and a guide, and time spent together had begun to rekindle the connection that they’d shared when Cordelia had been at her most vulnerable and entrusted Misty as her eyes.

Having Cordelia finally see her felt like the best thing in the world. In being seen, Misty knew she was truly loved and accepted for who she is. Cordelia had only to communicate through a look or a touch, and Misty knew there was no one else in the world she’d feel better with. Sometimes being with Cordelia meant that everything else gently fell away and it left Misty overjoyed and off-kilter in equal measure.

She tells Cordelia so as they make it to the closing gates at the amusement park. Her words are barely a whisper over the sounds of the coast and Cordelia listens patiently, leaning against the wall where the wind beats a little less.

Misty rambles when she’s nervous. But even if she didn’t, Cordelia could tell from the way Misty tucks hair behind her ear shyly, glancing occasionally at her shifting feet.

So, she takes one small step forward. Her hands reach for Misty’s, calming her fidgeting fingers as they tangle, rings clacking together.

“Misty.”

The blue eyes that lift to meet hers are wild and searching and Cordelia fights not to rush in with, _You’re the best thing in my life, I’m so happy you’re home, I still haven’t figured out how not to miss you, I want everything that’s good for you._

Instead, she coaxes Misty closer until they almost share the same air.

And despite her racing mind, no words come at all. She feels her cheeks heat under Misty’s innocent gaze even as Misty smiles and tilts her head.

“’s alright, Delia,” she mouths shakily, noses bumping together in a tender Eskimo kiss. Her heart pounds, over the noise of everything else, inside her burning ears. If she looks down, she can see her aorta beating through her stomach with nerves, magic crackling and jittery as it reaches for Cordelia. Her knees shake with the force of it. Cordelia’s gaze flits between her eyes and her lips and Misty’s body thrums with the attention, wondering what it might be like to close the gap between them.

She swallows around the lump in her throat, breath wavering in her lungs. Ever so slowly, she tips forward so her mouth fits to Cordelia’s own and her eyes flutter closed with the soft impact of it. The warm, easy feeling buckles her. She clasps to Cordelia’s shoulder, grateful for the hands that come to steady her.

Almost as quickly as she’d fallen in, Misty severs, breathless, pulling away slightly to gage the expression on Cordelia’s face.

Cordelia wears a smile, the tip of her nose flushed pink from the cold and maybe from the kiss, Misty hopes indulgently as she bows her head away from knowing, brown eyes. She’d like to do it again. She hopes Cordelia says something soon.

Instead, Cordelia reaches for her, combing away unruly curls from Misty’s face even as the wind scatters them across her fingers. Misty feels lips press into her hair and then Cordelia’s hugging her tightly, hands pressed protectively to her back to keep her close, chests heaving with the thrill of it.

She thinks she could levitate.

She savours the way Cordelia pulls back slightly to hold her face, tenderly between both palms to keep her grounded. Her brown eyes shine with mirth. They barely breathe, caught in another almost-kiss that Misty lingers on until a nervous giggle crawls up her throat and escapes. The jarring buzz of Cordelia’s phone jolts them both.

“Don’t look at it.”

Cordelia laughs, lightly brushing a thumb over Misty’s bottom lip as she reaches reluctantly for her phone.

_Getting railed yet?_

Misty catches Madison’s message, blanching with embarrassment even as Cordelia types out an angry reply and stuffs her phone away.

“I’m so sorry.”

“’s okay. Ain’t your fault.”

“I thought something was wrong.”

“’s okay.”

“Are you okay?” Cordelia whispers. She’s shivering. She’d momentarily forgotten all about it, Misty’s kiss burning her from the inside out. Now, she draws closer into Misty’s body, nestled in the arms that come up to circle around her.

“I’m fine,” Misty squeezes her, voice hoarse with longing. “I ain’t felt like that in -” she shakes her head, because, well, in _ever_. Cordelia nods empathetically, unable to stop herself from beaming at the realisation that they might just be on the same page at last.

They decide to catch the late-night tram back to the hotel, if only to buy more time. Wedged on the back bench in the crowded carriage, Misty holds Cordelia’s hand in her own.

On the journey, she vows to beat sense into Madison for being disrespectful and though Cordelia knows better than to agree, she keeps quiet, secretly more than a little curious to see Misty defend her honour.

 

/

 

It happens the next morning.

Madison is the last to rise, toothbrush dangling from her mouth as she struggles to pack up her suitcase before check-out.

She barely has a moment to register what’s happening before she feels Misty’s hands on her shoulders, spinning her harshly as a palm flies across her face. She clutches it, blinks the sting from her eyes and lands on top of her luggage as Misty shoves her.

“I ain’t above beatin’ the everlovin’ shit out of you, Hollywood - _again_ ,” Misty growls. She keeps her stance wide, hands on her hips. She’s ready to kick Madison into next week. But, a tiny, buried part of her smarts with regret – she knows Cordelia wouldn’t stand in her way if she so much as chose to end the younger witch, but the thought of Cordelia witnessing this, seeing her like this, gnaws at her and she deflates, shoulders slumping.

With the last ounces of rage, she channels Concilium and smacks Madison with her own hand. Twice.

She’s about to half-heartedly fling her against a wall when Madison cottons on, a smug smirk on her face as she rises and steps up to Misty, eyes brimming with malice.

“Poor Swampy. Is Cordy blue-balling you? All that sexual tension and no one to take it out on but _lil’ ol’ me_?”

Misty jerks when Madison trails a playful finger across the sharp angle of her jaw, tapping her nose lightly. She seethes from the inside out.

With a click of her tongue, Madison picks up her bulging suitcase and turns on her heel, “You know, Robichaux’s walls aren’t as thick as they look. And we _all_ knew about it whenever Hank fucked the living daylights out of her. What makes you think she’ll wait around for your sorry ass?” The click of her heels against the parquet floor resounds across the bedroom as she leaves.

Misty unclenches her fists and her jaw, breath trembling as she blinks through her anger. She doesn’t hear Zoe come for her, doesn’t feel the gentle touch on her shoulder. Only focuses on the ache in her chest and Madison’s cruel words, ringing in her ears over and over.


	3. Split screen sadness

They rent a van. _Because sometimes it’s good to do things the old-fashioned way._

The RV is just about big enough. Cordelia takes the wheel, partly because she’s the only one likely to be under the legal limit, and because she trusts nobody else to drive them all the way to Monterey.

She’d hoped Misty might sit next to her and be resident DJ. Unfortunately, they’d barely had a chance to say hi, between the chaos of bundling all their luggage into the trunk and collectively pulling Madison and Kyle apart when they’d argued about who took the seat nearest the toilet.

She lets the wind whip through her rolled down window as she looks through the rear-view mirror to check on the girls.

Misty sits wedged between Zoe and Mallory on the sofa. She looks glum. Cordelia’s heart sinks at the sight – there are bags under her eyes, shoulders slumped as she disengages from the conversation around her. Cordelia quickly glances over her shoulder to see if she can catch Misty’s eye -

“Eyes on the road, sweetheart,” Coco straightens the wheel as the van jolts, and Cordelia flusters, giving her an apologetic look as she refocuses on the road ahead.

Coco must pick up on something because she fiddles with her iPhone and brings up Fleetwood Mac’s greatest hits.

The sound reverberates through the vehicle and Cordelia hopes it might lift Misty’s spirits as the songs roll past one by one. She’s too afraid to look back to see if Coco’s plan worked. A heavy weight builds in the pit of her stomach – a feeling of dread and guilt. Had she abused her position? Misread the signs? Taken advantage? Ruined it all? Her racing thoughts leave a cool, crawling sweat on the back of her neck.

She thinks back to the night before. She hadn’t felt so happy in forever. When everyone had gone to bed, she’d snuck into Coco’s room, like a teenager, sheepish and giddy with an excitement that Coco had gladly shared with her.

Now, the two of them stare morosely at the highway as it traverses the coast. Coco offers her Oreos and Reese’s and water and Coke. Cordelia refuses all of them, even without Coco’s detailed calorie breakdown.

When that fails, Coco reaches for her hand and squeezes.

The van turns hot and noisy as the group grows restless. Kyle's already managed to change into his swim trunks. He’s the first one out of the van, racing for the beach even as Madison shouts, _you’re the bellboy, asshole!_ after him.

Cordelia looks pleadingly at Mallory who quickly takes the hint and kindly transmutates their collective luggage to the hotel reception. She’s left with Zoe and Misty whilst Coco tries to manage Madison’s foul mood.

“Everything okay?”

Zoe smiles softly. “Sure,” she glances at Misty who shrugs, non-committal. Her eyes stay locked on the book cradled in her arms and Cordelia wishes so much she could just reach over and touch her.

“I’ll help Mallory check in,” Zoe says as she shuffles out awkwardly. The silence of the RV is deafening.

Misty wipes a sweaty palm on the scuffed denim of her shorts. She fiddles with the book in her hands, then glances up at Cordelia. The emotion in her eyes stabs straight through Misty’s chest. It blurs her vision and she blinks quickly, hugging the hardback to her chest.

“I - ” the rest dies in her throat, even as Cordelia stands beside her, motionless, patient. She wears her hair up in a low ponytail, and a floral sundress. Misty had been staring at her the entire journey – at the back of her slender neck and shoulders, catching her delicate profile each time she turned to Coco.

She’d rehearsed it all in her head – the words she’d planned to say the first chance she got:

The fact that even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t have dreamt up a night like the last. That it’s all she’s been able to think about. That she’s terrified, flooded with waves of inadequacy and panic. That Madison’s words still resound in her ears and leave a bitter taste in her mouth, where Cordelia’s kiss had found a home only hours ago.

Instead, she runs a shaky hand through her hair, then over her face, hoping her crimson blush fades beneath her touch. She gives Cordelia a small smile. “Better go ‘n help,” she whispers. Her book drops onto the sofa. It’s the last thing left of her as Cordelia remains standing, alone in the RV.

 

/

 

By the time they’ve all unpacked, eaten and napped off their hangovers, it’s early evening. Their hotel perches on the side of the road adjacent to the beach.

Mallory and Misty look on from the sand as Zoe and Kyle try to stay on top of their surfboards. Mallory drops her phone into her beach bag and scoops her hair into a top knot. She turns curiously to Misty.

“Have you always known?”

Misty quirks an eyebrow over the rim of her water bottle.

“That you’re – you know…”

“A witch?”

The shy way Mallory shakes her head peaks Misty’s interest and she sits up on her towel, letting the sun beat down on her back.

“N-no. That you – like women.”

Her eyes widen. “ _Oh_.”

When the long moment stretches between them, the sea gulls squawking in the distance, Mallory back-tracks and dusts sand off her shins, “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

“It ain’t stupid,” Misty says softly. She scoots closer and bends her knees so she can rest her chin against them. Mallory looks at her in the sweetest of ways, in awe and reverence, so Misty nods, chewing on her lip in thought. Eventually she says, “I ain’t sure. I s’pose.”

“ _How_ did you know?”

“Well – Took me a long time, that’s for dang sure. I never thought ‘bout them things,” she shrugs, drawing a circle in the sand absentmindedly, then letting it fall through her fingers. “Where I’m from – that ain’t somethin’ people talk about.”

“Being gay?”

“No. I jus’ mean – romance. Datin’. Y’know – you grow up, you get married, have yourself a couple’a kids. That’s just the way it went. Never really gave it much thought.”

Mallory hums encouragingly, eager for her to carry on.

“Guess I ain’t ever taken a real fancy to men? Just got used to doin’ things by myself. ‘Sides – ain’t no space for no man in that swamp.”

“I know what you mean.”

Misty wipes her hand on her thigh and takes a long look at Mallory, who, in the late sun, suddenly looks very young. The moment they met, Misty knew Mallory was something special. In her, she saw a younger sister she’d never had, and felt an inexplicable, protective sort of love that she supposed wasn’t unlike a mother’s.

She tilts her head so her cheek presses into her knee. “That right?”

“About never really liking anyone. Or being too busy. I used to feel that.”

“And how ‘bout now?”

“Now?”

Misty grins knowingly. It would take a blind man not to see the light with which she glows.

“Now,” Mallory says, voice breaking, “it’s different. It’s like I feel everything all at once.”

She doesn’t go on, so Misty uncurls herself and lays back on her beach towel. She watches the sky turn amber. She realises Cordelia is watching the same sunset with Coco by the hotel pool and wishes they could share it together. Finally, she says, “For Coco?”

Mallory doesn’t respond. When Misty turns her head, Mallory’s eyes are cast out to the sea sombrely and she fidgets with her fingers.

Misty lets it drop. She follows Mallory’s line of vision to Zoe and Kyle as they paddle towards the shore. She thinks they’re going to wait for the two to return, but Mallory clears her throat and her next words are a punch straight to Misty’s gut.

“Don’t you get scared?”

Misty’s first instinct is to shout, _Yes! ‘Course! Ain’t it obvious?_

But she’s only ever spoken those words to Zoe, and only after a lot of coercing and an entire night of staying up to talk.

“Sometimes. Do you?”

“All the time.”

“What’re you ‘fraid of?”

Mallory sniffs, “ _Everything_. Rejection. Inexperience. Heartbreak. I know it sounds crazy.”

“It don’t,” Misty reaches over and takes Mallory’s palm in her own. She sprinkles sand on top of it, then brushes it away. “I feel them things too. It’s terrifyin’.”

“So how do you get rid of it?”

Misty laughs. “Darlin’, if I knew, we wouldn’t be havin’ this conversation.”

They’re both grateful when Kyle races towards them and shakes his hair, splashing water in all directions. They shriek as he pulls Misty up and throws her over his shoulder, carrying her caveman-style into the water. She yells and thumps his back, looking back over his shoulder at Mallory as Zoe drags her in after them.

The cool water sucks the air right out of her lungs, submerging her feelings of anxiety for just a moment, right before Kyle dives in after her.

 

/

 

Two days later, Misty’s no better, so the two of them sneak her away early, giving her barely any time to change out of her sleepwear and stuff a bagel in her mouth.

They leave a note for the others and head to Bixby Creek Bridge before it gets too hot in the day and the traffic piles up.

The cliffs are rugged and sharp, and they hover on the precipice of the great drop. The water is crystal clear, azure in the August sun and Zoe comments on it and how it matches Misty’s eyes. Her smile is infectious.

She looks at Misty as Misty looks through her lens.

“Relax,” she pushes Misty’s shoulders down, readjusting her fingers around the camera so it’s easier to hold. “Don’t forget the focus.”

Kyle grins at them proudly. He’s never been a model for anything before and the attention he’s getting is something he could get used to. He only wishes it was Zoe photographing him instead, though Misty shouts words of praise over the crashing waves, things like _you’re so dang good-lookin’_ and _you got such a pretty smile darlin’_ , so it isn’t all bad.

When she’s satisfied with her work, Misty looks down at the display screen and her friends huddle around her to study the damage.

She’s taken portraits of Kyle, focussed on his kind eyes and face to start, then blurring him gradually to get the contrast of the cliffs and Bixby Creek Bridge behind him. The series of shots range from wide to narrow in aperture and Zoe beams through them all, hugging Misty to her in encouragement.

“Amazing.”

“Y’think?” Misty frowns. The camera feels good in her hands, like it belongs there. She’d taken naturally to the ins and outs of aperture and shutter speed and the rugged coastline had proved the perfect palate for inspiration. She especially likes the photos of Kyle up close, with the waves smudged behind his head.

“For sure. You make me look good,” he shrugs modestly, and Zoe kisses him, on the cheek and then on the mouth when his head turns. Misty bubbles with happiness for them.

“Well y’all can keep these then,” she offers the camera back to Zoe who bats her hands away and shakes her head.

She tells Misty to hang onto the DSLR – _for as long as you want_ – and experiment with things for the remainder of the holiday. That way, they can make long-lasting memories for years to come.

Just after Misty hugs her gratefully, Zoe places a gentle hand on her wrist and gives her a soft smile.

“You should take pictures of Cordelia. She’d love that.”

The words shoot through Misty’s chest and settle into a swarm of butterflies in the pit of her stomach. She feels her cheeks smart with heat even as she wipes a nervous hand across her sweaty temple. Zoe doesn’t push it, too engrossed in Kyle’s arms around her as he lands kisses to the side of her neck and her bare shoulders.

It gives Misty a chance to escape and think on Zoe’s advice. Something about taking photographs of Cordelia is oddly romantic, and Misty holds onto the idea bittersweetly as she takes the camera back up, snapping a few quick photos of the landscape before they need to head back to meet the others, in time for the next leg of their trip.

 

/

 

The drive to Santa Barbara takes them half a day.

Traffic is horrendous, and Mallory gets sick half-way through the journey. Kyle’s driving doesn’t help – he tends to swerve in and out of lanes to make good time even though Cordelia tries to keep him under the speed limit.

She sits on the sofa next to Coco, who cradles Mallory’s sweaty face in her lap. She’s pale and drowsy and floats in and out of consciousness. Misty had tried her best to think of a spell for food poisoning, but nothing had sprung to mind. The best she can do is let Mallory rest her bare feet in her lap at the other end of the couch and rub soothing circles into them. She hums softly to the radio as she watches Coco wipe wet strands of hair away from Mallory’s forehead, handing her a straw to take sips of water that Cordelia diligently refills from time to time.

As soon as they arrive, Coco takes her straight to bed and spends the rest of the day by her side. She’s grateful for Kyle and Zoe who head to the city centre to gather supplies from the nearest pharmacy, and Cordelia who offers her support but is buffered away.

“Go relax. I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure? I’d like to stay.”

“Retail therapy, babe,” Coco smiles kindly, handing Cordelia her credit card. “And get me something. I need some new glasses. Kyle sat on my last pair.”

Cordelia looks dubiously down at it, then back at Mallory who’s fallen asleep.

“She doesn’t look well.”

“It’s diarrhoea – it won’t kill her. She'll be mortified,” Coco laughs, “but I’ll handle it. Plus – look at that face,” she pouts at Mallory who mumbles in her comatose state. “ _Go._ ”

“Co.”

“And take Misty with you!”

Cordelia accepts reluctantly, leaning over to press a quick kiss to Coco’s cheek right before she scoops her handbag on the way out to find Misty.

She spots her down the hall, in her own hotel room, the door wide open and clothes scattered all over the floor as she looks for something. She knocks gently, then hovers on the threshold.

“Oh. Hey.”

“Hi. What are you doing?”

“Can’t find my dang lotion,” Misty pouts, turning over a few more items of clothing half-heartedly. She plops down on her bed and sighs. When she looks up, Cordelia’s leaning against her doorframe, watching her tenderly.

“Would you like to come with me?” she says softly, carefully, “We could buy some more?”

It’s an olive branch of sorts. For the last forty-eight hours, Misty had barely said a word to her. And apart from accepting a drink when Cordelia did the rounds on the road, there had hardly been any interaction between them at all, a lonely, longing thrum settling down inside Cordelia’s bones.

She holds her breath in anticipation, relieved when Misty tells her a soft _alright_ and grabs her camera before they head outside.

The walk to the coast is quiet. They follow the dusty trails and palm trees which Misty takes photos of. Cordelia watches her snap pictures of things she finds beautiful – the roadside flowers, the cloudy sky, the bustle of the crowd as they head to the main streets. She does it with such great care and concentration, looks at things so lovingly, that it makes Cordelia miss her even more.

They finally fall in step and Cordelia walks a little closer, careful that their hands don’t brush.

“Zoe said you went to Bixby Bridge together.”

Misty nods. She floods with momentary guilt, wondering if she should’ve invited Cordelia along.

“It was early. Didn’t want to make a fuss.”

“It’s okay,” Cordelia smiles, watching the way Misty fiddles nervously with the leather strap over her shoulder. Her eyes are a dark, brooding blue. Cordelia wishes briefly that she were the one with the camera.

They quickly merge with the sea of tourists as they descend into the streets.

Misty walks in front of Cordelia to help clear the people and make way for them. When they separate, she reaches back without a second thought and lets Cordelia latch onto her hand, guiding them past trinket shops and stalls in search of some reprieve.

They find it beneath the white arch of an old house at the end of a cobbled side-street. It’s a little easier to breathe there and Misty drops Cordelia’s hand, wiping her own against her top.

“Sorry.” Sweat drips down her back and her temples. She’s grateful for the hair-tie Mallory had leant her, holding her mass of curls in a low bun. Cordelia is unphased and untouched by the sun, her skin pristine and freckled at the bridge of her nose.

Misty manages a small, cautious smile.

Cordelia laughs. “Come on,” she gently clasps Misty’s wrist and tugs her into the nearest café _._ The air conditioning sweeps over them both and Misty sighs at the pleasant way it makes the sweat cool on her skin. Cordelia laughs at her and quickly buys them ice-creams.

She expects Misty to finish her scoop in no time, but Misty lingers over her food, sneaking glances at Cordelia once they’re out of the shop.

They walk through the café’s outdoor seating to avoid the crowds, following the breeze as it leads them towards the ocean. They part ways only once, for Misty to buy sunscreen and for Cordelia to get a cheap pair of knock-off Ray Bans in hot pink for Coco – something she’ll regret later if Coco’s reaction is anything to go by.

When they reconvene, Misty’s slathered her arms, legs and face in sunscreen and Cordelia points to her nose where she’d missed a spot, withholding herself from reaching up to fix it. Misty helps her apply some to the tops of her shoulders but doesn’t linger, though Cordelia wishes she might.

As soon as they make it to the sea and Misty feels sand beneath her feet, she slides her Birkenstocks off and watches Cordelia remove her sandals.

Cordelia notes the way Misty’s toes wriggle in the sand, the way the wind tussles Misty’s top against her body, the faint, pale lines her rings have left on her hands where her skin has darkened. She picks up her sandals and walks them to the spot where the water meets the coast. The waves lick up their ankles.

After a moment, Cordelia turns. “Is something going on with Madison?”

Misty’s head jolts up. “What?”

Cordelia asks again, softer this time and Misty’s face falls, a sad shadow casting over her. “She went to meet some friends.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Ain’t nothin’ goin’ on, Miss Delia.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Cordelia whispers, brows pinching together in concern as Misty keeps her eyes on the horizon, camera swinging at her side. “Misty.” Her voice wavers, curling around the dry lump in her throat. The backs of her eyes sting and she tries hard not to let her chin tremble.

Misty shakes her head.

“ _Mist_.”

The endearment slices through Misty’s resolve. She purses her lips, cheeks dimpling with the pressure of it. “It’s fine.”

“Did something happen?”

Misty takes a trembling breath, shakes her head again – weaker this time – and turns away to walk up the coast. Cordelia follows at her side.

She watches Misty grapple with herself, with the truth. Misty had never, ever lied to her and Cordelia’s sure she’s not about to start now. They walk for a long while, in silence. Cordelia takes it as a sign of admission, waiting patiently for Misty to let her in when she’s ready.

Eventually they grow tired and sticky from sweat and Misty drops her shoes on the ground and then drops right beside them. Her face buries into her open palms. The sight alone is enough to break Cordelia’s heart and she instantly falls to her knees at Misty’s side. She puts her hand on Misty’s bare shoulder, her other palm at the back of Misty’s head to cradle her.

She feels Misty shudder in her arms, her body quaking with each jagged sob. The more she cries, the harder she buries her face away from Cordelia who looks on in abject horror – she doesn’t think she’s seen Misty this distraught since the first week of her return.

“What’s the matter? Sweetheart, _please_. You’re scaring me.”

When Misty looks up, Cordelia’s mouth is quivering, eyes panicked as they flit across her face as if to check for any signs of physical hurt. Cordelia’s hands cup around her jaw.

“I –“ Misty hiccups, “I-I ain’t good enough.”

“I don’t – What do you mean?”

Misty shakes her head helplessly, snorting back her tears. Her face is blotchy and crumpled and Cordelia wants nothing more than to kiss it all away. She’s grateful for what Zoe had told her. She wishes she could break Zoe’s confidence and confront Misty properly, but it wouldn’t be fair.

“I thought – I _try_ – I want to be good enough, f-for the Coven, for y- _you_ , more ‘n anythin’,” her sobs come harder until she’s slurring her words and struggling to speak and Cordelia’s talking her through it, telling her, _breathe with me, like we used to_ , and _calm down, Misty,_ in a firm, soothing voice again and again.

She runs circles over Misty’s clammy back, over her rattling ribs until Misty’s spent and boneless, lips parched and cheeks dry with fat tears. As she sobers, Misty pulls away, wiping her eyes and looking at the water, humiliated.

“Misty, look at me.”

When she doesn’t, Cordelia frowns.

“ _Please_. You owe me that much. You haven’t spoken to me for days and it’s hurting me.”

She looks up then. Cordelia’s eyes are glossy. She focuses her own on Cordelia’s bravely, doesn’t pull away when Cordelia rests her hands over the wrists in her lap.

“Whatever Madison said, it’s not true.”

Misty scoffs at this. “You don’t know what all she said.”

“That you’re not enough? You are _more_ than enough. You’re exactly what this Coven’s needed for so long. And that I wouldn’t wait for you?  Misty, it feels like I’ve waited for you my whole life. I would wait forever if it meant having you near me, being able to see you, to _touch_ you. All I care about is that you’re safe. That nothing worries you or makes you sad.”

 “That ain’t what she meant.”

“No? What else could I possibly wait for or want?”

Misty feels her mouth go dry, cheeks aflame. She looks pointedly at Cordelia. “I ain’t ever had a lover.”

Cordelia cups her cheek and softens, “Is that what you’re worried about?”

She makes it all sound so insignificant, but it’s the most important thing Misty’s cared about, wanted to be good at, wanted to get perfect.

“’n other things.”

“Which other things?”

“The rest of it. I ain’t ever done this – with nobody else. I don’t know what I’m doin’.”

Cordelia tilts her chin up to see insecurity written all over her, plain as day. She runs her thumb over Misty’s jaw and the apple of her cheek, the skin gritty beneath her touch as she wipes her tear stains. “What makes you think I do?” A decade of marriage under her belt and with Misty, Cordelia still somehow feels like a schoolgirl in love for the first time, a blank slate. Like she’s finally being seen for the first time, finally understood.  

“ _’Cause_ , Delia. Ain’t it obvious?”

“No. Because I was married?” Cordelia sighs sadly, “My marriage to Hank was built on lies and obligation. I fell for him,” she admits, brushing hair from her face, “I did. I was young and naive, and he made me believe that no one else could love me like he did. That no one else would. It took many years of sleepless nights and arguments and betrayals – it took losing my _sight_ , to see what was right in front of me all along.”

“How could anyone not love you, Delia? Lovin’ you’s the easiest thing I ever did.”

She hears the words before she realises, she’s said them out loud. All the colour drains from her face and she turns her head away to stare at the length of the beach, squinting past the salty wind. Cordelia’s eyes bore into the side of her.

She steels herself for a reprimand, for harsh words, a misunderstanding, for Cordelia to stand up and leave.

But Cordelia doesn’t. Cordelia soars with adoration, brings her trembling hands to Misty’s jaw and guides her into view. Without another word, she presses their mouths together, kisses her with warm, wanting lips and a soft, satisfied huff that glides across Misty’s cheek. When they part, she wears a knowing smile, her brown eyes hooded with emotion before they’re kissing again, lighter, softer pecks that leave their noses bumping together with every tilt of their heads, even as Cordelia scoots into Misty’s lap and lets herself be ensnared in Misty’s arms.

She feels Misty tap her gently on the arm as they sever. The action is so familiar, so tender that Cordelia lets her eyes gloss over, grateful when Misty kisses her yet again before the tears have a chance to fall.

 


End file.
